


Rome Isn't Given; Borgias Take What's Theirs

by Thirteen_Winter_Vixens



Category: The Borgias (2011)
Genre: F/M, King-Pope, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Murder, One-Shot, Sibling Incest, Super-cunning Cesare, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 23:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9686816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thirteen_Winter_Vixens/pseuds/Thirteen_Winter_Vixens
Summary: Alexander Borgia has taken control of Italy. He's a Pope, he's a King and he's setting out to rule the world. Happily dancing around his enemies, he has it all within reach. His sons Pedro and Bernardo are perfect princes. They know their place and they know the courts and they dance just as good as he does. It is only a matter of time before he possesses everything he desires.Cesare Borgia left Rome the day after his little sister married. Four years later, he's returned. Rumours have spread through Italy about what he might have been doing, the Bastard Prince; the Dark Prince; is ever the secretive one and he's had four years to plan out his revenge for his father's disregard of him and his sister.It's a new year and it's time for the true Borgia's to go home.And Cesare is determined to make that happen.





	

Five months previously...

 

Cesare felt as if his heart would jump out of his chest. He couldn't think properly. For the second time in his life, fear gripped him.

Lucrezia stood a mere foot from him. Closer than she had been in four long, agonizing years. There was no joy on her face, no relief, instead a hard edge was in her gaze that hadn't been there in her youth.

A womanhood, both he was in awe in and ashamed of. Her expression was one she intended, a look of pride, anger and condemning aloofness.

“Will you ever forgive me? Is there nothing I can do? I swear, my love, I would do anything you command me to. If you wish me to leave and never return to your life, I'll do it. If you wish me to stay, I'll stay with you everyday for however long you command.”

That comment earned him a slight warmth in her eyes and he pushed down the sliver of hope it gave. He would not celebrate early. He would never rid himself of his guilt, of his consuming darkness, his shame.

“I would have neither.”

He looked up at her, from where his head had fallen to stare at her skirts. On his knees, she was still short, his head coming to her naval.

“Lucrezia...” He breathed, unable to stop dread from consuming him. He would never be free, never be forgiven. She turned away from him and he didn't have enough breath left to even gasp. Instead, his body crumpled and tears silently flowed from his eyes. He hadn't cried in years. He must have made a sound because she turned and seeing his agony, her face morphed.

In an instant, her indifference vanished, concern and horror quickly replaced it. She immediately fell to embrace him. He clung to her softness, her fragile body, this wisp of a woman who had always held him captive.

“I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry Lucrezia.” He spoke feverish, unable to hold back anymore. His body shook from the amount of emotion raging inside him. He felt her respond, her tears wet his neck, her little body trembling alongside him. It might have been hours later when they finally calmed, her hands stroking his hair, burning a trail wherever they touched.

Her scent, beautiful rose-lilly, covered him. He never wanted to be away from it, from her. When they parted, only slightly, he tilted his forehead to hers. Closing his eyes, he breathed her in, let her presence offer a moment of serenity.

“You are so insufferable Cesare Cattanei, I can not bare to see in pain.” He opened his eyes to see hers so bright. Brighter than he had seen them this past fortnight. They were alight with amusement and fresh tears, he wiped at her cheek gently and asked, “You would forgive me? Truly?”

She bit her lip and spoke slowly, “I...I am angry Cesare.” Her hands moved to cup his cheeks and she smiled sadly, “But you are my Cesare. I could never stay angry, not at you. Others....others, I am afraid have lost all chances of forgiveness.”

Inside him, a tidal wave of rage built up and he said, “You are afraid. I've heard your nightmares at night, Sis. I know that you are full of joy, laughter, lightness, you just need to stay here. You need to stay with me.”

She did laugh then, but it was not light or joyful. Her laugh was that of a woman who knew there was no part of her that was free. Even her dreams had been taken from her.

“My husband will return in four months. I will never be free. I am a woman.” Fresh tears ran down her pink cheeks and Cesare couldn't help but kiss her forehead and pull her in a tight embrace. After awhile, in the darkness of her old bedroom, Lucrezia whispered to him. “If you truly wish for my forgiveness Cesare, you must make me two promises. You mustn't make them lightly for I will tie your very soul to them.”

Cesare smiled and knew there was no choice, he would promise her anything.

His soul had long since been hers.

 

* * *

 

 

High King Rodrigo sat in momentary peace. His sons and daughter were seated around him, all of them were telling him about their days.

Alessandra was excited, detailing her newest dress for the upcoming festival. His eldest son Pedro was silently listening, ever patient. It was Bernardo, his second born that was complaining about the festival being too short.

“Honestly Bern, you have no idea the cost involved in hosting such extravagance,” Rodrigo chuckled at his oldest, the boy was much too conservative for Rodrigo but nevertheless, a born leader.

“Well, I think it's a fabulous spectacle. It allows the people to have fun, relax. It's good for their health. And it allows us to give it to them. They love us.” His daughter's comment just made Pedro give her a stern expression, while Bernardo smiled.

Rodrigo truly loved his family. His children were everything to him. They were always so good, so very perfect.

Pedro was meeting his future wife, Princess Sacha, next week. The union would solidify his power in Spain. Bernardo had chosen a French bride, sister to King Louis. And his beloved daughter would soon marry for the third time, a prince of Greece.

Everything was finally coming together.

With all his ties strengthened throughout Europe, he would no longer have to worry about Orsini, no longer worry about a coup, or even the Ottoman Empire. His enemies knew this, however, and he had to act quickly.

Within a month, they all had to be married.

It was necessary.

Rodrigo turned as he saw his vice-chancellor Ascanio Sforza walk into the courtyard and nodded to him.

Rodrigo sighed, his peaceful moments were always so short. Standing, he said his goodbyes and kissed Alessandra on the forehead. He turned, smiling to his closest confidant. Ascanio barely managed to smile back, indicating bad news was to follow.

They walked for sometime before Rodrigo had enough of Ascanio's fidgeting. “Get on with it, Ascanio.”

The younger man swallowed and said, “This matter is of a sensitive origin.”

The king had to bite his tongue before he lashed out. Instead, he hastened his steps and led his ally to his private rooms.

Sitting behind his desk, he leaned back, looking expectant.

Ascanio made a show at shooing the guards outside and then locking the doors. Curious, Rodrigo stayed silent and soon Ascanio spoke.

“I believe that the Orsini's are going to attack, soon, this time with the Ottoman Empire at their backs.” Rodrigo was about to yell at the man. Of course, they were! Rodrigo wasn't an idiot, but then the chancellor continued, “My information comes from my family. This involves...Well...Your Majesty, it involves your children.”

“My children?” Rodrigo replied, what had Barnardo gotten into?

Could it have been Pedro?

Surely not.

Did Alessandra have another ill-thought affair?

“Your...your other children, my king.”

Rodrgio blinked as Ascanio looked away.

His other children.

Rodrigo tensed.

No one spoke of his bastard children. Though everyone throughout the world knew of them, knew their names, he did not legitimatize them. His marriage to Princess Adriana had prevented that when she had been living, presently, he would never upset his heirs ranking.

He was so close. So very close.

“What about them?”

“As you are aware, the second oldest, Cesare has been abroad for some years. There have been rumours, much more recently than before, that he has been indulging in the arts of war. He...it's rumoured that he has a secret group of mercenaries. That he kills without mercy or logic, they call him Rome's Bastard. That he is indeed…called The Dark Prince.”

Rodrigo snorted.

The last time he had seen Cesare had been at Lucrezia's wedding. The boy had been silent, almost broodingly so, but it was common knowledge he was a serious boy. Much like Pedro, Rodrigo thought and inwardly winced.

“I am sure it is nothing more than rumours, probably set a flame by the Orsini or Duke Cardinal Della Rovere himself; that ignorant rat!”

Ascanio looked even more hesitant but continued, “These rumours, even false, are damning, my king. As you know, you married your daughter Lucrezia to my second cousin Giovanni, four years previously.”

Rodrigo nodded, it had been an excellent match if he did say so himself. It had placed his daughter above her birth rank, Giovanni was a Count and one of the highest-ranking sea merchants. It was what made the Sforza family so powerful in Italy. Damn them.

“A letter came to me this morning, announcing his death three weeks previously. He died in an explosion on his ship, as well as most of his crew. He was carrying stock of gunpowder from France, it seems it went off by accident.”

When Ascanio didn't continue, Rodrigo got impatient and angry. He had needed that man, now Lucrezia was once more just a bastard child and with no child from Sforza. Damn.

“And?” He asked sharply, making Ascanio jump slightly.

“Cesare was seen near the docks in Venice. An inn by the docks. Apparently, after he left there was a whore found with her neck snapped and rumours have it that it was he who set the ships ablaze with Ottoman mercenaries at his side.”

Shock froze Rodrigo for a moment and then he shook himself. “Nonsense. Just because someone might or might not have seen him, does not imply that he is guilty to any of those awful deaths. If, that is, he was even there. Ascanio, you cannot believe any of this.”

Ascanio shook his head. “No, of course not. But you see, the very rumour of it is damning. As it is, Lucrezia has not been seen grieving his death publicly this last couple of days, although it is possible she had not received the news of yet. And Giovanni, well, he is not dutiful in his studies, he keeps his time in the brothels of the city and some say, less than civil houses of the poppy.”

Rodrigo waved his hand uncaring, “That is not anything any other man doesn't do. As for Lucrezia, I am sure she is grieving and merely trying to be strong in the wake of her husband's most unfortunate death. My children, bastard or legitimate would never delve so deep to lose their titles and place among society.”

Rodrgio stood and smiled, saying, “Come now Ascanio, lets banish this from our minds and go start the council meeting. We need to discuss more on the important matters, that of the Orsini.”

Ascanio nodded, still looking doubtful but Rodrigo did banish it, quickly.

His Cattanei children were Vanozza's concern, he had his own children to look after. 

 

* * *

 

 

Lucrezia tensed, warmth was at her back and as she wakened a heavy arm descended to curve over her waist.

She was instantly alert, and only relaxed as she heard a whispered caress, “Relax, Sis. It's me.” Within moments her body turned to water and she immediately turned to face her second eldest brother.

She smiled genuinely for the first time in what had to have been years now, it had been such a long time since she'd seen him. She hugged him tightly. “I can't believe your back. I've missed you so much.” Her body pressed against his, she finally felt safe, everything was finally going to be good.

He kissed her temple and whispered back to her, “Do you forgive me?”

She pulled back to look at him fully.

Cesare had stubble on his cheeks and his hair was unkempt. He had a healing cut on his cheek that must have been deep, but other than that he seemed in good health. “Have you kept your promise?” She countered.

He gave her a smile that made her heart leap and she gasped, for under the pillow he pulled out a black cloth, inside was a bloodied blade.

“I always keep my promises, especially when they're to the one I love.”

She grinned, really grinned for what felt like centuries. She felt her whole body lighten, and Cesare grinned back at her as he watched the light in her reappear.

“Oh, Cesare.”

He laughed as she pounced on him and kissed his cheek and forehead.

“You're forgiven, completely forgiven.”

They held each other, Cesare's face scrunched up as Lucrezia gave him quick, chaste kisses all over his face, her hands in his hair. Finally, he turned them over and it took mere moments for Lucrezia to loosen up.

She grinned at him, happier than he had seen her since she was fourteen. “I must tell mama.”

Lucrezia scrambled from her bed, unconcerned of the state of her dress, she laughed as Cesare called her back just as happily.

“Mama,” she called as she skipped into the dinning room. Vanozza looked up from dipping her bread in an egg. “What is it child that has made you so blusterous this morning and why are you only in your shift?” Vanozza tried to scald her but she held no bite to it.

“I have great news,” she said as she kissed her mother’s temple whom looked only slightly tired next to her wide-awake husband Nicolao. She gave small smiles to Gioffre, Juan and the little Isabella. The children were not paying much attention and Lucrezia decided to ignore them.

She sat and said, “My husband is dead. I need not leave Rome” She couldn’t help but giggle and her mother turned horrified. “We do not mock the dead, Lucrezia! How do you know? What happened?”

Cesare came in then, holding her golden and cream overcoat and said, “It is true, my good mother. Lucrezia is a Cattanei once again.”

The children squealed and raced to hug him and Juan looked up in surprise at Cesare’s sudden appearance.

Cesare quickly untangled himself and covered her, giving a glare to the staring servant standing by the door.

“Come Cesare, you have to help pick out my dress.”

“You cannot parade around showing disrespect, Lucrezia! The city sees and tells all!” Their mother called out from behind them.

Lucrezia paid no mind and Cesare made sure Lucrezia dressed in her finest dress. A fabulous red one that truly heightened her porcelain skin and golden locks.

 

 

They only relaxed once they were walking in the market. With Cesare back, with his strong arms encasing her, supporting her, she finally felt truly safe again. It had been such a long time, such an agonizing long time since she had felt anything other than despair.

Despair, hatred, rage, heartsick.

Her heart had never felt so light.

She ignored the looks from other Ladies, the eyes of men who stared too long. Instead, all she saw was her brother, his smile, the rightness of once again becoming a Cattanei. Lucrezia was once again herself. And hers alone. And Cesare’s, she’d always be his.

“You must tell me more.”

Cesare gave a breathless laugh at all of her questions, at her insistence.

“My love, I will take you to France one day. The sight overlooking the Foix is astounding and I promise you will see all the places in which I roamed, even Istanbul. And I am sure you would love the court there, they are almost as scandalous as ours.”

Lucrezia laughed at that and deliciously leaned into her taller brother, before saying, “Cesare, I am no longer a Lady. I daresay, I will never see court life again.”

Cesare was eyeing a pearl and gold necklace for her but stopped and asked, “Do you wish to be Lady, Lucrezia? I know-I know you hated your life with him…but did you enjoy the benefits of being so elevated?”

Lucrezia stepped away and made her way over the fine silks and velvets of the luxurious merchant’s tents. She had money, not enough to last a life-time but enough for a few more good years. Her mother was successful, if Lucrezia dared she could become a courtesan. She could make her own wealth from her body but even the thought turned her cold.

Cesare followed closely, his eyes intense, a frown marring his beautiful face.

Finally, she answered, her gaze sliding over the Vatican, the now Holy King of all of Europe. Their father was the most powerful man in the world. And with more enemies than every king combined for they all respected, feared and loathed him.

How he and the previous Pope had assured such a change, such a powerful and world-tilting move, she did not know. Cesare had only been three, herself not yet born, when Rodrigo Borgia, Pope of Rome had become High King Alexander Pope of Rome.

She, Juan, and Cesare, to an extent Gioffre whose father was in question had all then become official bastards. The Bastards of Rome. She had never minded as a child and as a woman it had been used against her. Her husband making political moves himself in her name, the only joy was that she had not conceived such a monster from him.

But now…her mother’s words seeped into her mind.

All of her worries, all of her warnings these past months. Lucrezia had no home, no husband and in four years she not conceived, not even miscarried. It was not a good sign for any future potential husband. Though she knew the odds of any man wanting her for a wife were long.

She was not important enough any longer to used as a pawn. Their father had Alessandra to marry. As she would, as Rome whispered, to a lovely prince. Alessandra would be a queen in time.

And Lucrezia, she looked around the market, making note of the Lords and Ladies passing through, the yelling of Holy men and fanatics, the jostling of the merchants and slaves.

What would become of her now?

She was finally free and she finally felt happy but she knew that would fade, she couldn’t be another mouth to feed for her mother forever. An old maid with a less than ideal husband once again.

“Yes,” she whispered.

But Cesare heard her over all the noise, he always heard her.

She looked up at him and told the truth, “I would have a husband who would worship me. I would be loved fully with a love as pure and all-consuming than the love of god. But I would also have power. I would have gold and riches and a house of my own and lovely children. And no one would dare take it away.”

Lucrezia had to look away, troubled by her own dark ambitions, her greediness.

Cesare did not let her go far, however, and wrapped his arms around her. He held her tightly, grounding her. She breathed deeply and once again they walked.

Cesare soon held her purchases and together they made their way back to their mother’s inn. “I would see the day when you are crowned and seen for what you truly are.” The quiet words, as serious as they were emotional made her turn to her brother.

His gaze was on her and as always it seemed to sink beneath her skin into her soul. Only he had ever seen through her touching a part of her she could barely even touch herself.

“You deserve to be the one marrying kings and princes. Men of your own choosing. Everyone should be bowing down to you not the other way around. I promise one day you will have everything you desire.”

Lucrezia smiled, laughed, her brother was ever the dreamer. For all of his seriousness, when it came to her, his eyes always clouded over.

She would never be Alessandra, she didn’t have the luxury of dreaming it. Her life was only once again starting and securing her future would soon be the of the utmost importance.

“Do not leave,” she told him and he smiled back to her, kissing her lightly while brushing their noses together.

“Never.”

She turned at the door to see him going back into the crowd meeting with the two men that had discreetly followed them. Lucrezia herself wouldn’t have seen them if she had not been experienced in such actions. The lighter-haired one looked back at her and dipped his head in respect, smiling, she went inside to try on her new purchases.

 

* * *

 

 

Juan’s eyes were wide and frightened as he listened to Cesare’s plan.

Micheletto and his boy Pascal remained silent, intense, engaging in a silent conversation that even after four years, Cesare could not decipher. But Micheletto looked ready to commit to the plan. And Cesare took that as a good sign.

“You…You’re serious? Are you mad? This will be our heads!”

Cesare quickly silenced his brother and already regretted telling him anything.

“God will never forgive this.”

Cesare wanted to laugh at his brother’s faith.

For all of his lechery, Juan was still submitting to the world, still on his knees to a faceless thing that Cesare doubted even existed. Juan had their mother’s morals, their mother’s looks and even her good-heart. Many reasons and more to doubt whether they had the same father, but Cesare focused on his plans, determined, focused, ambitious, never-ceasing.

His mother had cursed him years prior of being too much like his father, too much the same moral-less devils.

But whatever sin he committed, he thought of those blue eyes and knew he would be forgiven of every sin. Everyone but one and he had already promised to never commit it.

And now she needed him and he would never let her down.

“God has nothing to do with this. I need you there, Micheletto and I will put everything in place, I need you to cast the die and Pascal and Alberto will do the rest.”

Juan stood as if to get away from the very idea and both Cesare and Pascal pulled him back down before he drew attention from the patrons of the inn.

“Brother, think of this-”

“You will be king,” Cesare hissed, his face near Juan’s.

Cesare could picture it, he could see it all.

Since he was a boy, engrossed in his books on politics, on war, on languages and strategies, he could always see moves ahead of him. From fourteen when he took the life of a man who had tried attacking him to his eighteenth year and planning the murder of his sister’s husband, Cesare always thought of his next move.

And he could see it all, each step he would have to take, the kingdoms in which would need challenging, the others that he would have to conquer completely. He had travelled far and wide in the last four years, he knew their moves, knew their weaknesses. And he knew his first move was to knock pieces off the board.

“You will be the next Pope of Rome, King of all Italy. You need only let me give it to you.”

His brother’s eyes were wide with fear but underneath that was the true Borgia greed.

Oh yes, his brother was picturing it now. Not the moves, not he enemies nor the blood. He saw his crown and it was enough.

Juan licked his lips and asked, “You would do this for me?”

Juan was eldest. He’d become the most important person in all the world. But Cesare knew his weaknesses and he knew who really would one day take the crown from their father. It wouldn’t be Pedro or Bernardo or even Juan.

Italy never bowed, it was never given, it was only ever taken. Juan would never stand tall enough to take anything.

But Cesare smiled and he said, “Of course. You have to only remember me and Lucrezia. Lucrezia more than me, of course.”

Juan smiled, looked away and took a long swig was his ale. When he looked back he nodded and said, “She is my favorite sister. I could never forget our precious angel.”

Cesare clapped Juan on the back and smiled. He gave a glance to Micheletto and Micheletto gave one back.

As always, since the day they met eight years-ago disposing of the first man Cesare had killed, Cesare could read him like a book.

 _You know he’ll be a liability_ , that look shouted at him. Cesare nodded. Oh yes, he knew Juan’s weaknesses and push come to torture Juan would squeal like a newborn. But this was good, because as much leverage Juan had over him in this plan, in this Inn, this night, Cesare had it too.

And unlike his brother, Cesare was a master at leveraging his enemies.

He grinned at his brother, at his truer-brother and his best friend, calling out, “Four more drinks, here! We need to celebrate!”

 

* * *

 

 

Five days later, Lucrezia held onto Cesare laughing as they listened to the plays.

The festival was on it’s second day and they would only get one more. She had never laughed so much in such a long time. The playwrights had truly outdone themselves.

Cesare and her clapped and watched as the lighting of the bonfire went off that night from the steps of a palace, cakes and sweets in front of them, surrounded by wine. Drinking the last glass of wine might have done her in as he she rose from the courtyard unsteadily.

Laughing, she was saved by Cesare catching her. The world was hazy and nice and she was happily escorted through the crowds and laughter back home.

“It was so lovely. I do wish we had more festivals.” Cesare chuckled and said, “You will not be saying that tomorrow morning.”

He helped her out of her dress, her servants still dancing merrily in the streets, his fingers making quick work out of her bindings, brushing here and there against her skin as finally the outer layers fell to the floor.

She hummed and turned to him as she took out her hair and asked, “And what of my brother, did he not enjoy the splendor of Rome unmasked?”

Cesare smiled and said, “I did quite enjoy myself, my love.”

She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him, growing warm when he held her back. “I am glad. I am so happy.” Cesare leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Safe, she whispered, “Stay.”

Cesare tensed as he did all those years ago and Lucrezia looked up at him, his lips so very close to hers. They had once touched hers, once shown her how a man should kiss his wife, once made her heart skip and race at the same time.

It was her darkest of desires.

To have that which should never be hers.

To crave it, to need it like air. She had heard of the pleasures of lovemaking though had never experienced it. But she knew she could, if only she had what her body and heart craved.

Slowly, she cupped his face and watched as his eyes deepened, his jaw clenched and Lucrezia allowed herself to feel his strong jaw, the stubble that coated it. She caressed his neck and moved to untie his shirt when he suddenly grabbed her hands.

Looking up, she saw the battle he was having and it made her smile.

Heart racing, she knew she hadn’t dreamed it.

She hadn’t made it up, all those nights when her husband had taken her harshly, barbarically, she had thought of her wedding night. Of Cesare on top of her, of his hands on her thigh, his mouth on hers, demanding, loving, possessing.

“Sis, you need sleep.” His voice was a tone lower, whispered as if it were the hardest thing he could do.

“I need you.” She whispered back.

Now he breathed in shakily and drew her to him in a tight hold. Her hands wrapped around his back and once more she let them caress across the hard muscle.

He kissed her harder against her hair, long and too chaste. Then he ripped away from her and said, “You…you should sleep, my love. Sleep well.” He quietly shut the door behind himself and once more Lucrezia was left alone.

 

 

Cesare took deep breathes, his heart hammering, his cock half-hard. He could still feel her against him, smell the flowers that she bathed in.

He wanted to groan from the want of her.

And she remembered! She never spoke of it, never once brought it up. He had almost taken her virginity when he had brought her to bed. He had watched her marry, watched her pledge herself to a man twice her age, knowing exactly what he was. He wanted her, he loved her, he wanted to save her from the pain of that first time.

He would have if not-

“What are you planning?”

Cesare turned and stilled as he saw his mother com out of her house.

The garden was empty, the hour late and Cesare frowned.

“I plan nothing.”

Vanozza snorted and replied easily, “You are always planning something. To not, I would say there is an imposter before me.”

Cesare smiled and shook his head, saying, “You give me too much credit.”

“Too little from the rumours I’ve heard. Your mind is as sharp as your patience is long.”

He never pictured as a boy he would dance around his mother like this. But then again, Juan had been her favorite. Not only did he look like her, he thought like her. While both were sharp minded, they were poor at execution and that had always made him slightly different than them. Vanozza had always looked at him warily, even as a boy.

“Tell me what you wish mother. It’s too late in the night for word games.”

Vanozza lifted her head and said, “I want you to leave. I know why you came back. I know what you’ve done and I do not want you near her.”

The words wounded him but not as much as they did four years ago. He had still been a boy at eighteen. Regardless of how he had seen himself, he couldn’t have taken care of his sister the way she needed, he knew that.

But he could now. And he promised never to leave.

“I cannot do that.”

Vanozza narrowed her eyes and said truthfully, “What you feel is wrong. And unless you can tell me those demons no longer touch you, I fear what you will do to her. She is good, Cesare, you cannot corrupt her with your depravity.”

At that, Cesare did wince.

He felt her hand on his face, her voice telling him to stay. She had said that to him at the tender age of fourteen. She had spread her legs for him then and no doubt would have tonight.

Cesare didn’t know if he had corrupted her when she had still been a child or if like him, Juan, Pedro and Bernado, like Alessandra-all those rumors that Rome yelled from the rooftops-perhaps she was just like him.

Perhaps, it wasn’t him that had kissed the goodness out his angelic sister, perhaps, it was worse than Vanozza wished to voice-she was a Borgia. But, nevertheless, Cesare still felt responsible.

“I have spent four years away from this family running from demons in which haven’t left my side. I am sorry that I have disappointed you, that I have a stain in my blood in which your love and God’s love cannot cure. I am Cesare, I am a Borgia, I am wrong and hated and moral-less but I will not bow, I will not pray for forgiveness any longer. I love Lucrezia.”

His mother straightened, her eyes wide but she said nothing, she knew the truth of it, had for years since she caught them together that night, Cesare moments away from stripping them both.

“I will not apologize for something I cannot control. I will not apologize for feeling this way, mother, not any longer. It is the only thing that saves me. And if you cannot see that then you curse me to hell even if I never lay a hand on her.”

“You would instead damn us all.” His mother eyed him with fear, with an eye in which said she knew what was to happen.

And Cesare told her the truth, “I would damn everyone, mother. Everyone but this family, my family. I have no need for the rest.”

 

 

Cesare ran to Micheletto’s and Pascal’s home, running from his mother, running from his temptation.

Almost barren the house held a bed, a couple chairs and a stocked kitchen. Just enough for the two men who were constantly moving.

Pascal didn’t appreciate his late coming, which considering the marks on his neck, he had been interrupting. But despite their late activity, they stayed up with him.

More trustworthy people he could not find. Micheletto was his man, his brother and both were unquestionably loyal to each other. Pascal; Micheletto had met in Florence, spying on a great house. The two had connected much to Cesare’s suspicions but they proved wrong when Pascal had helped them, time and time over.

For as loyal as Micheletto was to Cesare; Pascal was just as-if not more-loyal to Micheletto and in turn to him as well.

Now Cesare feared the day Pascal left them. The man was no fighter, instead living off his keen mind but he was fascinated by the darkness of the soul, Michletto being the blackest one he had met, and it was only equal to love he shared with the man. Micheletto; Cesare knew, broken and sad Micheletto, would break if he lost one more person in his small circle.

Cesare admired their relationship as difficult as it was. They were more true and honest then anything he had seen in this world. They always made him think of her and how her eyes lit up when she saw him.

They stayed up with him; knowing his perversions as he, theirs. They went over his plan again and again until Cesare grew sick of his own voice. Then they ate bread in olive oil with apples and figs and watched the sun rise on the third and last day of the festival.

And as morning lit up the world brightly, they got to work.

 

 

Cesare found Lucrezia three hours later. She was speaking with their mother, dressed in their expensive dresses, hair pinned and glowing. Little Isabella was trying to get Gioffre’s attention. Both his half-siblings were looking up in awe at their father who was pointing out the horses that would be starting. Vanozza picked up Isabella so she could see above the heads of some people in front of her.

Lucrezia was the one to turn to him as if sensing him even across the crowd. It took a moment longer than what it should have for her to brighten. But she did and excused herself.

Cesare and Vanozza shared a look but Cesare turned his attention to his approaching sister.

Stepping forward himself, he drew her into a hug and kissed her cheek.

“I am sorry for the way I behaved last night.”

He ran his fingers down her flawless cheek and shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

She turned those beautiful blue eyes on him and he could see her thoughts. Her questions, her wants. He smiled and nudged her nose with his.

“I just want to be happy," she said quietly.

He held her tighter, feeling the eyes of their mother on them. “I promise,” he whispered into her ear, “I will make you happy.”

Two promises now.

And he would keep them.

If he had to burn Rome to the ground, he would keep them. He was hers now. Had been since the day he held her in his arms at four years old.

He lead her to the front, wrapped her in his arms and smiled as the trumpet went off.

Their father, the god who controlled the word, the man whom would not say their names, stood, his arms wide and a smile on his face. His lovely, dark-haired daughter at his side.

“Today we celebrate new beginnings. A new year is upon us and we shall all be tested and made stronger through whatever challenge may come our way. God is with us and in him we are forgiven for our sins. This year, the Year of the Bull, we will flourish, we will prosper and we will destroy all those who seek to end our way of life. For Rome!”

The crowd cheered and yelled out, boos mixed in with laughter and chants and bets. Lucrezia turned in his arms, just slightly, to show her bright smile before she cheered with the crowd, “For Borgia!”

Their name, the one denied to them, the same name that made him furious and vengeful shouted through the air, but for her, he kissed her cheek and shouted with her. “For Boriga!”

And on the fifth cheer the gates opened and the horses flew passed them. Children raced along the crowd, the excitement grew and even the most anti-royal peasant came out to see the exotic horses and their devil speed.

Two princes rode against one another, beautifully Spaniard in their dark locks and eyes. Following them came their opponents, too slow and too cautious.

Lucrezia clutched his arms, vibrating in her happiness and soon he turned her suddenly.

Before she could ask, he dipped his head and kissed her. Her lips against his was heaven. Soft, plump and tasting like strawberries, she kissed him back and only pulled away at the screams.

She half-turned and the crowd grew quiet, confused, more screams sounded out and Cesare watched as the Pope rose from his seat.

“What’s happening?” Lucrezia asked worried, trying to see down the race track, passed the bend.

“I do not know, my love.”

She glanced at him, cheeks turning pink. Not backing out of his arms, she turned to Vanozza’s shouts.

The crowd was shouting now, together and all mumbled, they could not be made out but they knew their mother’s voice and it reached them easily.

“The princes! The princes are dead!”

Lucrezia lost all colour in her cheeks, her eyes wide and horrified.

Vanozza reached them with the children and Nicolao at her side. “We have to stay,” Nicolao said as the women panicked. Cesare agreed. They must be seen and even Nicolao whom had been born a Shepard knew enough with Kings and heirs that suspicion always fell to the next in line.

“Where’s your brother?” Vanozza asked sharply, looking around. Gioffre spoke, fourteen years and honest to the core, “I saw him with his friend Francesco just across from us.” And indeed, through the now panicking crowd, came both men.

Juan looked as pale as Lucrezia and refused to look at Cesare. Vanozza hugged him and then slapped his arm and said, “This is not the day for you to wander. Do you know what happened?” Juan shook his head and even Francesco who could make light of everything was quiet.

Through the crowd, they all heard the Pope scream.

 

* * *

 

 

Cesare sat in front of the fire in his room.

He was tired, not having gotten sleep the night before but he was stuck to the chair. The bells had rung long ago and night fell with a hush. The whole sitting was still in shock.

_What had happened?_

_Who had done it?_

_Was it even murder or God himself curing the Borgia house?_

_What was going to happen now?_

The whole city seemed tense with questions.

But Cesare knew.

In all things kings needed heirs. And while Alessandra had sons, they were young and none yet had claims of being princes themselves.

The Pope knew the answers himself. He just had to have enough strength to admit it.

And soon the real work would begin.

His mother had been right; his sharp mind was indeed equal to his patience. For he would need a number of years yet.

…Seven.

Perhaps five if his father co-operated. And he got rid of Juan before he could damage anything important.

His door shut with a too loud click but the footfalls were soft and light.

Hands wrapped around his chest, greedily running over his bare skin and lush golden hair fell upon him, tickling as it brushed against his breast and stomach. He leaned back into that embrace as he heard, “I know what you did.”

Opening his eyes, he found no judgement in her gaze, not disgust or horror.

Instead, they were bright, deepened only when they locked onto his lips.

She leaned down to nudge her nose against his softly, barely touching, making him crave her all the more.

“Thank you,” she whispered before she descended to kiss him senseless.

He gasped and gave up resisting. Standing, turning and lifting her in his arms, he kissed her once again, deeply, madly, wishing to possess and be possessed.

There would be no going back. Not now. There would only ever be forward.

He would make her happy.

No matter what it took.


End file.
